Stolen Grace?
by Mistress Ashley
Summary: The Monks committed the ultimate sin. They stole the Grace of an angel ... the Key to her powers.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy or Supernatural and I make no profit from writing this story. Don't sue me because I have nothing to give you.

**AN:** I went to post a Twisting the Hellmouth challenge this morning and it told me I've reached my limit of open challenges. Doh! Take a look at my challenges and write me something so I can post more?

As for this story, it was written for my own challenge, Challenge 5392. I'm not sure how far I'll take it but expect another chapter or two to fulfill the challenge. Suggestions on how to bring in the angels and the Winchesters are welcome. I'm not sure if I'll write in any pairings but suggestions for that are also welcome.

-Check my profile for the link to the art that goes with this fic.

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Josef, the last and oldest Dagon Monk left within the city, looked around the temple that had been their home for millennia. The Beast was coming and the others had fled in hopes that one might survive to carry on with their mission. Josef felt no resentment for them, because it was the way it was always meant to be. He was the most powerful, and he would stay behind to cleanse the temple and hold off the Beast. He was to die for his duty, but he would die knowing he had accomplished his task.

His eyes looked sadly upon the once flourishing gardens. They were dying now without the Key's influence. It was a saddening thing to see. He could remember curling up against that tree as a small child, feeling the radiating power of the Key seeping into him as he rested, and yet it seemed only fitting that that tree would die with him.

With a deep breath, Josef moved as quickly as his old and weary body would allow. He made his way through the temple's hallways to the records room. He had spent a good part of his life browsing through these books and the even older scrolls. They all told stories of the Key, theories and results of tests others had run but only one held the real story. It was a scrap of parchment, nothing more, but it had been hidden behind locks and even more powerful enchantments, only the oldest of them was ever to know the shame they had committed.

As his thoughts continued, his fingers worked all on their own, grabbing the can of fuel for just such an emergency. The day had come for millions of years worth of knowledge to be destroyed and he was to be that destroyer. He tipped the fuel over the books, splashing the shelves as he went. He reached through the enchantments and grasped the precious bit of parchment. This he had to destroy personally, had to see its destruction with his own eyes. As he left the room, flames licked at the walls, devouring the books that had survived many years under the Order's protection.

Josef's mind thought of that long ago time when the previous elder had handpicked him, brought him into the temple and showed him their ways. His mentor had died shortly after Josef had been inducted as one of the Order's monks–not every boy brought in would make it that far, but Josef had persevered in an effort to make his mentor proud. Another elder had ascended and life had continued as normal for many years. It was only when Josef himself had taken the mantel of elder that he had learned that it wasn't such an honor as he had believed.

Finding that parchment had been the worst day of his life. It told of how the first monks had stumbled upon a wounded angel. She had been sent down with a task and had been injured in the completion of that mission. She was a curious thing and had accepted their help in an effort to learn more about her Father's precious creations. They told her tales in exchange for her own. She was one of God's most precious angels and had been sent down to throw a great beast into another world. The angel shared with them her worries; she didn't think the beast would stay banished for long, and she was frightened because she was the only one who could possibly send her back. Sadly, there was dissension in Heaven and she couldn't be sure she would survive long enough to see it through again.

Their sin, their shame came about when the great beast managed to come back through not even a year after the angel had banished it. It was powerful, too powerful for them and they were overcome. Many were killed that day before the angel could save them. The angel sent it back through with only a small flex of her power, commenting that the power it must have taken to punch through the walls of the world must have exhausted the creature. She told them that she used an extra strong 'lock' this time and it would be many, many years before it could amass the power to return.

It was that night that the remaining monks came to an agreement. They trapped the angel, extracted her very Grace in an effort to protect themselves. The shock of such an extraction killed the angel, but the monks were satisfied; they had the Key to her power and it would protect them from the Beast.

Josef snorted in disgust as he watched the parchment merrily burn. The Key had gained a small amount of sentience over the years. Josef sometimes wondered if it was the mind of that long ago angel, trapped in the shining, brilliance of its Grace struggling for control without a vessel. It had locked the Beast away and its power had held until now. Ignorant fools, those long ago monks had been; they hadn't needed to kill her, to steal all that she was to protect themselves when there was nothing to protect themselves from. They had only doomed themselves and all those they taught 'the way'.

The heavy, barricaded stone door of the temple flew open and framed by the setting sun was the Beast. He could admit that she was beautiful, until you looked at her face. The heavily painted lips were stretched wide into a smiling sneer as she took in his kneeling form. The manic, twinkling eyes showed the evils she had committed–the evils she had enjoyed. Josef knew he was doomed, but he would see this through.

He rose smoothly, forcing aged muscles to move in ways that they hadn't for many, many years. He would meet the Beast in combat and then he would meet his maker for judgment. Maybe if he prayed hard enough God would have mercy and answer his last prayer.

As his lifeless body fell to the unforgiving stone floor after only minutes of combat–his body just wasn't what it used to be and the Beast was more powerful than even the legends told–his prayer rose faster than his soul.

_Heavenly Father, we have done wrong and I will accept my punishment gladly but please, protect the Key–protect your fallen angel, for she cannot protect herself now._

End Prologue


End file.
